I saw you that night -
fumbling, trying to locate a place
for the temporary, cartoon, bumble bee tattoo.
You tried the small of your left wrist, the inside
of your arm, the back of your hand.
You peeled the back off carefully -
each time -
expecting it to be there, as a sticker would.
I smiled at your lack of water
and understanding, at your frustration -
looking away in your acknowledgement.